a silence of
nearly three months in the only way which occurred for the moment.

"Rather not. We'd better cab it back--you're not up to walking yet."

"Thanks awfully, Tempest, for saving--"

"Look here, don't let's get on to that," said he.

"I say," said I, "I was afraid you believed what Crofter said, and
thought--"

"You were an ass, Tommy--you always were--I ought to have remembered it.
Of course I never believed a word Crofter said--I saw his game. But I
was idiot enough to get riled at you for giving yourself away to him.
I'm sorry. Now let's forget it. After all, it was the best thing for
me that all that row about my bills came out when it did. You did me a
better turn than you meant to do. Just like you--if you try to do
things the right way, it's all up with everybody. But if you do them
your own way, they manage to come round somehow."

"But Crofter's done you out of the captaincy."

"So much the better--I didn't deserve it. I'll get it back some day
perhaps, and work it better. Come in to me to tea. Redwood's coming,
and old Dicky, too."

"But you're against Redwood for the Mile," said I.

"That's no reason why I shouldn't give him a cup of tea, is it, you
young mule?"

The way he said it, and the grip of his hand on my arm, satisfied me
that all was square once more between me and my dear old Dux.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A DEAD HEAT.

The few weeks during which I had been laid up had witnessed some curious
changes in Low Heath--at least, they seemed curious to me, dropping, as
I did, suddenly into them.

First of all, we poor "Sharpers" were all burnt out. The faggery was no
more, nor was the hall, or the dormitory. We were being put up
temporarily in a town house just outside the school gates, a good deal
to the wrath of some of our number, who felt it was putting them down to
the level of the day boys. However, the sight of the scaffolding round
our old quarters, and the cheery clink of the trowel, reminded us that
out exile was not for long, and that in a brand-new faggery, on brand-
new chairs, and round a brand-new table, we should shortly resume our
pleasant discussions on the deepest questions with which the human mind
can occupy itself.

Somehow, apart from the fire, things weren't going exactly as I had left
them. Pridgin was reported to be working hard--a most alarming symptom.
It was commonly surmised that he could not stand playing second or
third fiddle to